is now a running, curious and vivacious 21 month old determined to seek out all the wonders of the world in her own way.
And while this wasn't Autumn's first opportunity to see, taste, smell and touch all that is the bright orange orb, this was the first year for her to carefully select which pumpkin she would like to take home. It was a lesson that as a parent, what we may think or perceive to be 'right' for our child may in fact be the complete opposite. For instance, if the picking out of the pumpkin were left up to me, Chris or I would have went out into the patch looking for the 'perfect' match for our little Autumn. It would be smaller than the 'mama' pumpkin, but bigger than the 'Arrabelle' pumpkin. It would have been perfectly round with a sturdy stem. It would have had the most perfect face to carve her very first jack-o-lantern out of. Notice the blatant overuse of 'perfect'.
When the decision was left up to our inquisitive Autumn, she was fierce in setting out to select which pumpkin she would call her own. I found myself pointing and saying 'how about this one?' and she would carefully pick it up, look it over, then drop it on the dusty, dry ground (thankfully no pumpkins were sacrificed in this hunt).
I could tell that her little eyes were scanning, carefully calculating and being decisive in her decisions as to which ones she would pick up. I found myself redirecting her to the next row because with my quick scan I could see a far better selection of plump orange orbs, yet she was persistent in redirecting me showing me that she wanted to go down another row, one that to me didn't look promising.
And then all of a sudden, right in front of her bright blue sparkling eyes, she found her most perfect pumpkin. It was slightly orange, somewhat yellow in pigment but was mostly covered with oatmeal colored blotches. It had a stem, but then it didn't...
It was lopsided in shape and hardly sat centered. It had scratches and holes in it, probably from the rot that was beginning to set in on the inside.
But if you recall from the Magic School Bus episode about rot, that doesn't mean it's about to die, because rot is very, very much alive says Miss Frizzle! It had green spots and brown spots, and what resembled warts and boils. If pumpkins were to have warts and boils of course.
But it didn't matter what I had to think about it because it was your pumpkin, your first pumpkin that you picked out with your very own two hands. You loved it so much that there was no way we could try to accidentally leave it behind. You went back to it the one time we tried, and then after that we knew it was set in your sweet little heart that this was your keepsake pumpkin. It had captured your spirit and in your eyes it was perfect for you.
It would be the one that we would take to the register and pay the full $6 for no matter what it looked like, no matter what the size, no matter that we predict it to have half the shelf life of the others and be closer to pumpkin pie than a jack-o-lantern as we near halloween.
You see sweet Autumn, that pumpkin for me symbolized how you already view the world. How everything no matter the size, color, shape, texture, or amount of life left you perceive it just as deserving of your love and kindness. You don't see the world in terms of perfection or absolutes but instead a world of uniqueness and character, hope and faith. I hope as your mother to assist in guiding that little soul of yours to continue to view the world as such. A world full of beauty and wonder at every turn. Even in the most unexpected places. Even in the pumpkin patch that held what in our eyes was the worlds most ugliest pumpkin (I despise even calling it that in front of you) but in your eyes was the pumpkin that was going to turn into a carriage that would take you to the ball where you would then loose one of your silver slip ons that your dad bought for you that were too big and in turn your plastic prince charming from the little mermaid toy would whisk you away to live happily ever after in the land of milk and cheese. Yes cheese, because your love for cheese is in fact greater than your love for honey, or cookies, or anything sweet for that matter.
The trip to the pumpkin patch was by no means perfect. For the second year in a row your dad and I both were drenched in sweat at the end, this time a bit more given the fact that we were taking care of you and your sister and chasing you down row upon row of pumpkins. And past a sunflower field. And into a bin filled with corn. You were exhausted too because you probably picked up, squat cleaned no less than 30 pumpkins with a face that typically looked like this...
So by approximately pumpkin 31 you looked like this....
I fed you the last of the fruit smoothie pouches in my purse and searched feverishly for the sippy cup that accidentally got left in the car. Mom fail. You were thirsty but it would have to wait until we paid for our pumpkins. Your dad then willfully chose to stand in the line that was at least 1 mile long, waiting with your fussy sister attached to him, while you and I headed towards the corn bin that you had eyed on the way in. You had a blast while I sat on the side nervously watching as you threw corn about. I sat amongst the 40 or so screaming kids ranging from a year to eight years old even though it was the most unpeaceful place on the whole farm. You were smiling and that's all that mattered. And you hadn't been hurt or thrown corn at some kid and made them cry so I was going to just sit back and let you bask in the awesomeness that was the corn bin.
Your dad on the otherhand was battling the line and a barn full of screaming kiddos all so that we could have a family of pumpkins to decorate for Halloween.
All so you could bring home your perfect pumpkin and give it all the love that it deserved. And the adoration you had for your first pumpkin didn't stop there. You pushed it around in your baby stroller the following day, washed it in the dog bowl and dried it off with your sisters clean blanket and even said 'bye' to it as we left the front porch and loaded up in the car for errands. You were nurturing it just as if it were a pet. And if it's any indication of how you would treat your first pet (or dear, sweet sister?), you are certainly on your way to earning that gold star sooner than we could have ever fathomed.
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